


Feathers of Ochre

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [59]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liesel's a little hesitant about starting fifth grade after skipping fourth. But she's not going to let anyone see she's nervous. But it really would help if her classmates would stop making references about her height.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers of Ochre

Fifth grade. 

Just the idea of it was a little daunting to Liesel. She finished putting her hair into the reverse-french braid like Mrs. Kershner had taught her, she took a deep breath and looked into the mirror. She didn't look much like someone who should be in fifth grade. Her uniform jumper was left behind and now she wore a skirt and uniform vest. She was sort of surprised that they found something that fit her. At the uniform sale at school, she and her dad had found skirts easy enough – it'd only had to be taken in at the waist – when she took a better look at it, she saw it had been hemmed previously. Since the skirts half-covered her knees, she didn't want to think about how short the skirt was on it's previous owner. The vest wasn't too hard either – but it hung at an odd angle.

Dad had told her, rather pink faced, that it was for a girl a little more 'developed' than her. 

Liesel tied a dark blue ribbon at the end of her braid and stepped back to get the whole picture.

“Well, this should be fun.” She picked up her backpack and headed downstairs. She set the bag next to the door and went into the kitchen. After feeding the cats, she poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the island. 

“Good morning.” Her dad came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Ready for school?” He poured himself some coffee and turned around to face her.

“As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose.” She ate some of her cereal. She was a little nervous about this fifth grade business. She'd already been among the youngest and smallest in her year and now she was definitely going to be both. 

“You'll do fine.” He set his mug down, smiling. “Now, I have second shift today, so grandpa is going to pick you up from school.”

She set her spoon down. “I know this one – change clothes when I get home, do homework, then I can call Georgiana and see if she can play – make sure I help grandpa.” 

He laughed in response and shook his head. “You really are too much at times, you know that?”

“Yeah. I learned it from you.” She grinned and went back to eating her breakfast. 

*  
Mr. Fasci looked to be around her dad's age. Liesel felt a little uncertain as carried her binder and pencil bag over to her desk, glad that at least she'd been assigned a cubby that was near the floor and not above her head. Several of the kids gave her an odd look as they came into the room, but maybe she was imagining it. Once the bell rang, the kids all fell silent as the teacher got up to the front of the room.

“Good morning class.” He looked them over and smiled. “Have a good summer?” There were a few mumbles of agreement, but apparently, this wasn't enough for the man. “Nothing exciting happened?” He looked them over, his face widening in surprise. Liesel had a feeling the man had not taught anything but first graders. “Anyone take a trip?” He stepped back. “Hands up anyone who took a trip.”

Liesel raised her hand and looked around the room – it was her and ten other kids. 

Mr. Fasci was leaned against the podium at the front of the room as a boy in the back of the room called out.

“I tripped over a raft and fell into the backyard pool, does that count as a trip?”

Liesel covered her mouth to stifle her laugh – but it didn't matter – _everyone_ in the class was laughing.

“Not the kind of trip I meant...” He looked over the rims of his glasses. “Robert.”

“Rob.” Rob replied. “I prefer to be called Rob.” 

“All right then, Rob. That wasn't exactly...” He looked around the room. “You can put your hands down now.” He shook his head as the class did as he asked. “Next question, who read a book this summer?”

Liesel saw that the entire class raised their hands. 

“Who read more than one book?” 

The number went down to sixteen.

“Anyone read more than five books?”

Liesel and five other kids had their hands raised.

“Hm.” Mr. Fasci frowned. “All right you six, stand up for me, will you?” He addressed the boy standing in the middle of the row next to the cubbies and coat hooks. “Joshua, how many books did you read this summer?” 

“I read seventeen books, Mr. Fasci. My favorite one was _Catching Fire_.” 

“That is a good book. You can sit down.” He turned to Liesel. “How many books did you read this summer... is it Liesel?” 

“Yes, I read thirteen books this summer.” She bit at her lip as he scribbled something down. 

“What was the most challenging book you read?” He looked over his glasses at her.

“ _Harry Potter şi Camera Secretelor._ ” She replied, blinking a few moments at the stunned look he gave her.

“I'm sorry, what was that title again?” He adjusted his glasses.

“ _Harry Potter şi Camera Secretelor_ – that's the Romanian edition of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_.” 

“Did you read the book in English as well?” He went back to writing something.

“Yes. After I read the other version.” She slid back into her seat, feeling her cheeks turning pink. Something told her this was going to be a very long day – and a very long school year.

*  
Liesel wasn't sure where to sit at lunch. The fifth grade had fifty students – twenty three of them girls. She ended up at a table with two other girls – Jasmine and Christina. They were both engrossed in emptying their lunch bags as she set her lunchbox down and opened it, taking out her thermos and a container of cheese cubes, along with the wax paper holding a chunk of bread. After pouring some soup into the lid of the thermos, she noticed Jasmine, who was sitting in the middle chair on the other side of the table, staring at her.

“What is that?” She leaned over, frowning. “It's kind of hot for soup, don't you think?”

“It's cold soup.” She picked up her spoon and took a taste. “Avocado.” 

“I've had that. It's good.” Christina gave Liesel a look. “Jasmine's not a big into adventurous foods.”

“I'll try things once my tastes have changed – that should be when I'm fourteen, or something.” She turned to Liesel. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Nine. Why?” These were the first people to ask her that today – apparently, no one had noticed her when she was in the grade behind them.

“You're like, really little – even for nine.” Jasmine went back to her lunch.

Christina looked at the other girl and then back at her. “Don't mind her.” She mouthed and turned her attention to her meal.

Liesel adjusted her hold on the spoon and did the same.

*  
Little. Shorty. Small Fry. Pipsqueak. Tiny. 

Liesel had stopped keeping track of the names her classmates called her – she wouldn't have minded it so much if they wouldn't say it in a mean tone of voice or like she was unaware of it. She _knew_ she was short. 

Well, okay – if they wanted to call her short, they could – but they had to be nice about it. And the next time someone said it in a not nice way, she'd let them know.

**  
Michael Coulter could see the smile on his granddaughter's face the moment he spotted her. She was with two girls, both of whom were laughing. One of the girls broke off when they came to a group of small kids, most likely second graders and waved as Liesel and the other girl continued across the crosswalk and up the steps to the church lot where he was parked. The other girl walked passed his car, waving to Liesel as she came along side of it and opened the back door and got in. “Looks like you had a good day today.” He turned around to look at her when she shut the door. “Who was that?”

“That was Christina. Jasmine had to find her little brother.” Liesel buckled her seat belt.

“So what's so funny? Or is this some girl thing you don't want your grandpa knowing?” He grinned.

“Well, remember how I told you a lot of kids were giving me a hard time about me being smaller than everyone else?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, did it happen again today?” He was actually more surprised that the kids in her class made it about her height and not her age. Then again, they probably forgot about that if she was keeping up and possibly moving past them in terms of academics.

“We were in gym class and we had to do chin-ups.” She bit at her lip for a moment. “And me and this boy were the only ones who could do more than three. Well, I actually did more than he did – and when I got back down to the ground, he called me a wiry shrimp.” 

“You're not called wiry shrimp, are you?” He meant it in jest and wasn't surprised by the look he gave her in response. The same look her mother used to give him when he'd asked her if she knew what she was doing in the kitchen.

“No.” She coughed once before continuing. “I said that if anyone is going to say something about me being short they can't be mean about it or say it like I don't know – or I'd start asking all of them for weather reports.”

Michael burst out laughing. He leaned against the back of the front seat. “Then what happened?”

“Then, before Ms Rice could say anything to intervene, Luke Carvalleti speaks up and said, 'Yeah, Josh – leave Half Pint alone – she'll go for our knee caps.'” Liesel fell back in her seat, giggling.

“So now they call you Half Pint?” He smiled. “Did you have to inquire about the weather?”

“I didn't today – but who knows, the kids might forget over this weekend – since it's Labor Day and all.” She shrugged. “And I don't mind Half Pint. It's way, way better than Squirt.”

“That it is.” He started up the car. “Anything else happen at school today?”

“I gave Christina and Jasmine their names in sign language... I am allowed to do that, right?” He saw her look in the mirror.

“Of course you are.” He turned and looked at her. “You need to stop by the library before we go home?”

“No, Dad and I went last night – he had book club.” She replied and they pulled away from the school.

*  
Dean came home from work sore. The ankle he'd sprained several times in his gymnastics career had started acting up lately – most likely he'd have to dig out that brace of his from the bowels of his sock drawer and start wearing it. He probably should have been wearing it anyway. He woke up his dad, who was dozing on the couch. 

_“Rise and shine. Sorry I'm late.”_ Dean gave him a worn smile.

Michael adjusted his hearing aides and looked at his watch. “It's okay. Your couch is comfortable.”

 _“Anything happen at school today that I should know about?”_ Dean saw the odd look on the older man's face. “What?” 

_“Well, you'll have to ask Liesel at breakfast. She's already made waffle batter, by the way.”_ Michael coughed and the two of them headed for the front door. “ _I also checked the game results. I hate the Yankees.”_

 _“I know, I know.”_ Dean gave his father a hug. _“Thank you for watching Lis. Cas is still recovering from that last hoard. He really hates it when it's animals.”_

 _“Can you blame him? I'd hate it too!”_ He returned the hug and went outside. 

Dean watched until his father was safely in his car and out of the drive before closing the front door. After locking it and setting the alarm, he went into the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal. After sitting down at the island and sorting the mail, he frowned when he saw the thick red envelope amidst the white ones. He turned the letter over, frowning at the return address – it was from Becca Rosen. Wait – he knew why. He smiled and opened the envelope – it was about time Sam got married. He pulled out the card-stock letter and felt his heart drop.

The card stock didn't contain formal script – he recognized Sam's messy handwriting at once. 

_Dean – I'm getting married. Can't invite you because Dad's going to be there and we don't want kids at the wedding. Sorry. - Sam._

Dean tossed the card away in disgust. 

Sam really sucked at tact. 

At least Adam had sent an actual invitation along with a letter claiming that he thought it was best that he not come – and had invited him to a party in New Orleans that he and Kelly threw for all their friends who couldn't afford to travel to the wedding.

Well, it was probably for the best. He and Sam hadn't been on good terms in a while – he still wasn't sure what it was entirely.

Maybe it was because he took Jessica's side when she and Sam broke up. 

Dean finished his cereal, tossed the letter into the trash and headed upstairs for bed, determined to put the whole thing out of his mind.


End file.
